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What I am: Complicated. A mom. A wife. A thinker. A seeker. A 'musician'. One of the volunteer executive directors of a niche music festival. An administrative business owner who set up shop in a senior's condo. Oh the stories!

Tuesday, 1 January 2013

It's a Brand New Year!

Well here we are, 2013.  Doesn't that seem crazy?  Think back to when you were a kid and someone mentioned the year 2013.  It seemed impossible, like we'd all be wearing tin foil outfits and living on Mars by now. 

I think we are at an in-between phase of celebrating New Years Eve.  After the busy Christmas season, the thought of putting on itchy pantyhose and a little black dress that I will freeze in and going somewhere noisy cannot compete with the thought of putting on my sweats and reading a book.  Yes, Dull Dora, I know, but Dora needs her down time.  

I was trying to remember how we celebrated when we were kids, but the whole Christmas season is blurred together, so New Years didn't really stand out.  I remember one year having those cracker things to open up.  Somehow, I thought it was going to be more exciting than pulling a tissue paper crown and a green plastic ring out of a toilet paper tube, but hey, these are the things we do.

My parents often went to the New Years Eve dance in town.  It was called a Dine & Dance and it was all very exciting because they always had a live "Orchestra".  That's what bands were known as in those days.  In fact, my Dad still wonders why no one has orchestras at their wedding anymore, it's all 'them damn tapes and their boom, boom, boom'.  He's hilarious.  The orchestra was usually the Gold Tops, our community band.  I would give a lot to be able to hear them again.

Party favours were handed out at these New Years dances and apparently, my parents didn't have the presence of mind at 3:00 a.m. or whenever they would make it home to put the party favours elsewhere but on the kitchen table.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't their plan to be woken up a few hours later when the kids got up and found the stash of noisemakers. TWEEEET! HONK!  CLACKETY-CLACKETY-CLACK!  One kid would inevitably try on one of the plastic hats, snap their throat with the cheap elastic and start wailing.  Good times.

The apple does not fall far from the tree, because I remember bringing these things home from the New Years dances we went to thinking how much our kids would love them and not giving any thought to what TIME they would love them!  "Oh those crazy kids found the tooters!  Kill me now." 

New Years dances are definitely not my thing.  I learned that after the first few I went to.  Awkward from start to end, they were.  I would spend the whole night with a skillful eye on whose whiskey-induced advances I had to avoid after the countdown.  Then everyone stood in a circle and pretended to know the words to Auld Lang Syne.  Ach.  No thanks.

 Even house parties are iffy to someone who has personal space issues like me.  At 11:58 you'll see me quietly slip away to the bathroom and remain conspicuously absent at the stroke of midnight until all the drunken hugging and kissing has ceased.  It seems totally alien to me to greet someone with a 'Hey, how are ya' at the start of the evening and suddenly at midnight you are locked in an clumsy embrace??  Are you supposed to let them kiss you on the cheek?  What if you turn the wrong way and bang heads?  No wonder people drink, that's a lot of pressure to get the choreography right!  They shouldn't call it New Years Eve, they should call it the Grade 8 dance.  The people who know me and get me accept my offer of a High Five to ring in a healthy and prosperous new year.  I love the people who know me and get me.

Seriously though, I'm less of a curmudgeon than I seem.  I have high hopes for 2013.  I'm happy to turn the calendar page.  It represents opportunity.  2012 has offered me much and for that I must be grateful.  2012 has shown me that a heart can break but with love, begin to mend again. Thank you for reading this little blog of mine.  I wish you health and joy in 2013.    

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